Reaching Through Pain
by TrashBinStories
Summary: After Newt's Suicide attempt. Newt tries to break through the pain and he reaches out to friends to help him. Lots of whump and pain. Especially for Newt. Big bromance between Minho and Newt especially. Some Alby. No Slash. Sorry I suck at summaries. This is my first ever fanfiction. Please request and review. I do plan to make this longer just so you know.
1. Chapter 1

Newt reached up, gasping as another burst of pain ripped through his leg. His vision blurred, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. He couldn't breathe. The weight of the world was crushing his chest. He felt ice hands reaching out to grab him, they gripped his leg and he screamed, jerking violently to get rid of them. Snippets of voices trickled through to him

"_We've got to stop the bleeding!"_

"_Hurry the shuck up you shanks!_

"_Hold him down!.."_

It all made his head hurt. The noise, light, the sounds of scuffling and hurried footsteps. Hands were wrapping around him again, but this time he couldn't fight them off. He felt someone begin to pull at his pants leg, rolling it up. Pain like molten lava shot through his leg again and suddenly it was like he was choking. He could feel his throat tighten as his heart began to bound quicker and quicker in his chest. His hands splayed out across the sheets, feeling the scratchy material as he grasped at them, clenching the blankets tightly in his hand. His fingers and arms spasmed and he bit down hard on his inside cheek to keep from screaming. He tasted metal. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. He kept reaching around the bed. He needed something, anything to hold. To fight the pain.

"_hurry up!"_

"_come on we've got to do it"_

"_Make sure you hold his arms"_

The voices were at it again, and suddenly he could feel movement in the room as they all began to surround him. He felt more hands grab his arm, then his leg, each movement and motion adding to the pain and dizziness. Suddenly he felt a pair of hands grip his leg, right around his knee. Right where it all hurt. He thrashed in the bed, straining and banging his head against the pillow, but he couldn't move. He felt the fear and pain rising in his chest as he realized he was trapped. Trapped. The one thing he feared more than anything was being trapped. His heart pounded and he opened his eyes, seeing blurry visions of the other gladers around him. He strained himself enough to look down at where the source of his pain was all coming from, and he almost wished he hadn't. There was Clint, his hands placed strategically around his knee. Or what was left of the shanked up knee anyways. He could see blood pouring out of the gaping wound and his leg was twisted in a sickening shank. He stared at it for mere moments before throwing his head back on his pillow with a soft anguished whimper.

"Clint. You've got to do it!"

That voice he recognized. It came from right over his head, and he looked up to find the source. Minho. It was Minho standing at the head of the bed holding one of his strained arms down. Minho however, didn't look down at Newt, but kept his eyes straight ahead at Clint.

"Clint come one!"

Suddenly everything clicked for Newt. The Gladers holding him down, the extra precautions, and Clint holding his knee. They were going to reset it.

"No!" the scream ripped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Some of the Gladers quieted and Minho looked down at him.

"No! Please, please don't do it when I'm awake! Please don't!" Newt could feel the streams of tears rolling down his face, but he didn't care. He knew the leg needed to be reset, but still he didn't care. He just wanted the paint to end. He wanted it all to go away.

Minho stared at him. His eyes filled with pain as he knew what he was going to have to do to his friend.

"I'm sorry Newt…" He whispered sadly. Then he turned and gave Clint a nod.

Newt only had a moment to close his eyes before he felt the sudden shift in his leg and heard a sharp _snap!_

Then everything exploded into fire.

Newt screamed, his back arching off the bed as he thrashed out, throwing several of the Gladers off of him and even punching one in the face. His scream tore at his throat and he began to sob uncontrollably. His breathing hitched and he reached out again across the bed, twisting and pulling at the sheets as if in an attempt to get away from the pain. It felt like someone was burning him while slowly stabbing him with thousands of knives. He screamed again as he felt the other Gladers return to hold him down, jostling his leg and sending more shoots of molten lead up it. His face was soaked from so many tears and his heart was beating too fast. He opened his mouth again to cry out, to say something, when he suddenly couldn't . His heart caught in his throat and his chest began to rise and fall and his breath came out in short bursts. He began to feel light headed as panic set in and he began to shake uncontrollably in his bed.

"_oh God! Shuck!"_

"_What the shuck is happening?!"_

"_He's going into shock!"_

Clint and Jeff grabbed him, trying to soothe him as the other Gladers ran around frantically, but the voices were beginning to fade away as darkness set around the edge of his vision. He reached out one more time, grabbing the sheets as his body continued to spasm. He reached out, knowing that it wouldn't help. He could't grab air, or relief, or any escape from the pain. But still he reached and grabbed the blankets once again, twisting them beneath him as he finally, peacefully, slipped into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all of the reviews and follows and views you gave for my story! Well this is chapter two. A lot less whump, but there is a bit of an explanation. Basically when I wrote this I was like "Shuck this is a pretty long chapter!" and so I decided to split it into two chapters. I'm almost done with what will be the second half of this chapter so you might get two chapters today. I would actually really like to know (after I post the next chapter of course) whether or not you think I should have kept it as one chapter or not. Thanks and happy reading. **

Minho stared down at his friend, watching his chest slowly rise and fall peacefully. It was morning the next day, and he sat alone in a rickety chair beside Newt's bed. The room was finally empty, as all of the Gladers had left several hours ago once Newt had finally passed out and they could dress his wounds without him screaming and jerking around. It had been a gift, really, that he had slipped into unconsciousness. At least he was finally away from the pain.

Minho reached down, moving the boy's blonde hair away from his face. He looked so still, so peaceful, even with all of his injuries. A split lip and some bad bruising across his check and forehead were all that could be found on his face. His arms, which lay on top of the scratchy brown covers of the bed, were wrapped carefully in clean white linen bandages, with only a few stains of blood that had seeped through. Newt's blood stained blue shirt had been torn off of him when the med-jacks had set to work, and was most likely going to be burned or cut up for rags. He now donned a clean white t-shirt that Alby had managed to find lying around somewhere in the Glade. A bit of the bandages around his dislocated (and then relocated) left shoulder could just be seen peeking out of the edge of the shirt sleeve.

"You're a right mess, you are." Minho whispered to himself as he shook his head with a chuckle, pulling his hand back into his lap. Even with all of the injuries to his arm

With a soft sigh Minho leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his hair and then down his face. He checked his watch, finding the numbers 11:16 blinking back at him. He had been awake for 28 hours and 16 minutes, and it was really starting to take its toll. The other Gladers, like Clint, Jeff, and Alby, had all offered to stay up with him, or at least take turns rotating during the nights watch, but Minho had refused. He insisted that he felt fine and the others needed their sleep. Once they realized that there was no chance of moving Minho, the trio left, albeit very gratefully. But now the Adrenaline rush and buzz from all of the occurrences were leaving Minho and weariness was setting in on him. His eyes felt heavy and he slumped down for a moment, just wanting to rest for a couple of seconds…

_His breath quickened and he stepped up his pace, whipping around another corner of the maze. He turned left, then right, then left again as his heart began to pound faster in his chest. _

Damnit Newt! _He thought, heels digging into the dirt as he pushed himself harder, ignoring the burning sensation in his legs. All he knew was that Newt was in Section 8 today, that it was late afternoon, and that his best friend had yet to return from his running duties._

_Another corner_

_Left_

_Right_

_Left again_

Newt you useless shank where are you?! _He slowed to a halt, trying to regain his breath. Leaning against one of the many vine-tangled walls he slung off his pack and grabbed his water canteen from the inside. He took a quick swig, then stood up and looked around, trying to evaluate the situation, and wondering how the hell he had gotten himself into such a mess._

_The day had started off simply enough. Minho had risen up earlier than the rest of the runners, before the sun was entirely up. After quickly dressing, he ran over to the kitchen in the homestead. He slipped inside, checking that Frypan wasn't around. The cook wasn't mean of course, but he always got a little irritated when Gladers just took food on their own. Seeing that the coast was clear, Minho made himself a ham and cheese sandwich and grabbed an apple and bottle of water. After returning all of the food to their original places, he prepared to slip out the door before pausing a moment. He turned, scanning the kitchen, and grabbed a second apple. He was sure that Newt would be up already and he might as well get him something to eat._

_Stepping into the center of the Glade, Minho's eyes took a moment to adjust as the sun peaked over the horizon. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the early morning, and set off across the Glade. His shoes squished slightly over the dewy grass as he neared the entrance of the maze. It was closed at that moment, although Minho guessed it would probably open in a half an hour. _

_Minho sat down on a tree stump that was located outside of the maze, setting down his food and beginning to manage the supplies for the day. _

"_Oh Shuck…" He muttered to himself, realizing that he had left his knapsack in the homestead. Ugh, now he would have to travel all the way back across the Glade and carry all of his food back and forth and-_

"_Hey you bloody shank!" The British accent pulled him out of his thoughts. He recognized that voice. He looked up with a grin, that was until a heavy leather knapsack slammed him in the face._

"_Ow! What the hell man?" He griped, frowning at his friend who was bent over laughing. _

"_S-sorry" Newt managed to gasp out as he attempted (and failed) to stifle his laughter. "Y-you left your pack in the h-homestead. I thought I'd get it for you."_

_Minho couldn't help but smile, and he reached over to pick up the spare apple from beside him. Standing up, he lobbed it over at his fellow runner, hearing a satisfying _thump! _as it made contact with Newt's face._

"_Ah! You-you son of a bloody-"_

"_Language!" Minho chirped, cutting him of midsentence. He strolled over, a smug smile across his face. "Not so funny now, is it?" _

"_Whatever you shank." Newt replied, rubbing his forehead. He bent down and picked up the fallen apple from the ground, then took a huge bit out of it._

"_You ready for some running today shank?" _

"_As I'll ever be."_

_The pair sat down of the grass, taking turns sipping from the water canteen as they ate. A comfortable silence fell between them, and they stared out across the Glade. Birds were beginning to chirp and the coolness of the early morning was fading into a sticky heat as the sun continued to rise. The other runners would be appearing soon. _

"_Do you ever wonder if we'll ever really make it out of here?" Minho jumped as the voice broke through the silence. _

"_What?" He replied sharply, whipping around to face his friend. Newt didn't look at him, but instead continued staring off into the distance_

"_I don't know. Aren't you ever afraid there's no exit? No way out?"_

_ Minho blinked. "Well-that's what we're here for isn't it? We're here to find a way out." He managed, clapping his friend on the back. _

_ Newt turned to him, a small smile on his face, but his eyes seemed sad and distant. "Do you think you could be the Keeper of the runners?" he asked quietly, casting his eyes back down to the apple core he held in his hands. _

"_What?!" Minho shouted, leaping to his feet. He was shocked by the sudden turn of the conversation. "Me?! The Keeper? You know that's your job not mine! You're the best at it," he said seriously._

_Newt shrugged, keeping his focus on the apple in his hands, turning the apple back and forth, "Yeah," he muttered, "but I'm sure you could do equally as good as a job…"_

_Minho stared at his friend. He couldn't understand what the help was up with the shank. Newt was always so confident, so understanding. Newt always knew what to do, but this, well, this just was not Newt._

"_Newt, buddy, we need you as the Keeper." Minho replied, and he swore he could see a glisten in the Keeper's eyes. "Newt-" but the other cut him off with a sudden laugh._

"_Don't worry Minho I know I've got my job to do. I was just wondering if you would ever be able to be the Keeper, or if you'd bawl like a bloody baby." Newt jumped up, and with one swift movement he hurled his apple core across the Glade. He turned to Minho, a smile plastered on his face. But in Minho's opinion, the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Come on, I saw Ben and a couple of the others getting ready. We better get the supplies and stuff." He held out his to Minho._

_Minho looked at the outstretched hand for a moment, debating on whether or not to say anything to Newt about their conversation. But with a sigh and a false smile of his own, Minho grabbed Newt's hand, and allowed Newt to haul him up off the ground. He would save his conversation for later._

"_All right you shanks!" He called, spying Ben and the others as they came closer, "Let's get ready to run!"_

_Minho shook himself out of the memory, and stood up from the wall. After having returned from the Maze, he had found out from other runners that Newt had not come out. He knew that there was only minutes until the maze closed._

"_Shuck!" He yelled out, pounding his fist against the wall. He was in a freaking_ MAZE_ for shuck's sake! How was he supposed to find one person! He felt tears of frustration clinging to the corners of his eyes as he began to panic. _

Calm down, _he thought to himself_. It'll all be fine.

_That's when he heard the scream._

_Minho whirled around, attempting to locate the sound as it echoed off the walls. His heart pounded in his chest as another yell tore through the air._

"_NEWT!" Minho called out, even though he knew his friend wouldn't hear him. A scream of pure agony tore through the air once more._

"_NEWT!" this time sheer panic consumed Minho. He closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing and determined where the sounds had been coming from. It sounded like they were all coming from the other side of the wall. Minho's eyes snapped open and took off towards the left, his feet grinding into the ground as he ran with ferocity. He thought about the turns of the maze, of the best way to get to that side of the wall._

_Left_

_Rigtht_

_Left again_

_He wheeled around a corner and down another corridor of the maze. His breath hitched as he heard a strangled yell. It was quieter, but he could tell it was closer._

_He skidded to a halt as he came to a 3-way fork in the maze. He thought for a moment, and then continued forward, all the while thinking about what had happened to his friends. _He could have broken his leg, or who knows what else. God, he probably got attacked by a Griever. _Minho shook his head as though trying to dispel the thoughts, and kept running. He knew he could be headed straight to his own demise, but he didn't give one single shuck. No way was he leaving his friend._

_Finally, after what was probably only several minutes, Minho came to what he was sure was the right corridor. Shadows from the tall wall darkened the path, and at the same time alerted Minho to how much longer he had before the Maze closed. A half an hour at most._

"_Shuck," he muttered, and he began to run down the long hall of the maze. _

"_Newt!" he called out, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't know why, but he felt uneasy._

"_Newt!" He called again, moving further down the maze._

_And that's when he heard it. A slight rustling, and a soft whimpering._

_He stopped, whirling around as he tried to find the location of the noise. His eyes scanned the floor of the maze and stopped as they landed on a shape, a horribly familiar shape. _

_Newt._

**I hope you guys liked that chapter! Just so you all know I plan to post at least one chapter every two weeks. I hate when there is no consistency of time to expect chapters, and while two weeks is abroad amount of time, I will be providing a chapter or an update every two weeks for sure. Ok so review and stuff if you don't mind. Thanks you shanks!**


	3. UPDATE

Heeeeey guys. So um, as you've probably noticed I have not been updating like I promised to. So I've come to bring you an **update and an explanation**. It's pretty simple, basically I was very recently assigned two research papers right after I finished the second chapter of my story, so the story basically ended up getting put to the side. Then I was assigned two projects and now I have a week left until exams. I plan to start updating again on **MAY 29 or at least the beginning of June. **So sorry guys. Don't hate me! Thanks so much for your reviews and your patience.


	4. SURPRISE BITCHES! IM NOT DEAD! (& SORRY)

Wow I suck. Let's face it. Ok so as it turns out I didn't know this but, my computer was basically taken until about a week ago to get a bunch of updates and I got it returned um, a week ago. So I haven't been neglecting you all! I just haven't had a computer to use! Ok so sorry I love you all, I am going to try so very hard to get the next chapter up this week. I love you all and thank you for the patience.


	5. NEXT CHAPTER! YAY I ACTUALLY UPDATED!

_**Heeeey everyone! Plot twist-I'm actually alive! I know its so amazing. Anyways, here is the new chapter (finally). This chapter turned out to be hella longer than I was expecting, but shuck it, I think its good. It was written a lot faster than my previous chapters because I just had so many things I wanted to write and I really wanted to get it to you guys. Sorry for any typos or anything. You're all free to criticize and critique this story in any way. Love you all. Thanks for the patience. **_

_Minho nearly shattered his kneecaps on the cold stone floor of the Maze as he slid up to the broken body on the ground. _

_ "No, no, no, no, no…." he muttered, over and over as he looked down at his friend._

_ It was the stillness that terrified him._

_ It wasn't the cuts on the face, the bruises on his cheeks and arms, not even the slick, warm sensation that he could feel on his hands and knees (a sensation that he would later realize was blood pooling up around him). _

_ It was the stillness._

_ Even when runners and other Gladers would get injured, whether it was a twisted ankle or something as gruesome as a Griever sting, there was never stillness. They might be crying, thrashing about wildly, or shrieking so horridly that it would make your blood curl and make you sick to your stomach, but that meant that they were still alive. There was still a way to fix you. The real terror was when the Gladers would pass out, because there was no real way to fix that. Sure, you could stop the bleeding and wrap up the wounds, but you couldn't force someone out of that situation. Either they woke up, or they didn't. _

_ "Shuck! Concerntrate you stupid shank!" Minho told himself, smacking his head. He pushed all thought of death from his mind and forced himself to look closer at Newt and evaluate the situation. He took in deep breaths, wiping tears of frustration from his eyes. "You can't be of any help to Newt if your passed out on the floor you dumbass!"_

_Leaning down Minho pressed his ear over Newt's chest._

_ For a few terrifying moments the world stood still and there was nothing but silence._

_ Then he heard it, the weak but sure pounding of a heartbeat._

_ "Oh thank God! Thank God!" Minho wanted to dance and scream with joy, but they weren't out of danger yet. _

_He looked down at Newt, and began to evaluate his wounds. He was just so beat up; his head had a large bruise and a cut that was still oozing out crimson blood, but not at a rate that he would die. He moved on farther down, discovering scratches, cuts, a broken wrist, a dislocated shoulder, and some bruised ribs. Minho lifted his hands from Newts chest and up to his own face as he went to brush a small strand of hair out of the way. He felt a warm sticky sensation and pulled his hand away in horror, realizing suddenly that it was slick with blood. Minho wanted to panic, to throw up, as he began to notice the red that was staining the stone floor around him. _

_ "What the shuck?!" he muttered, trying to find the source of all the blood. He knew it wasn't coming from his head or any of his upper body, so then it must be coming from his legs. He looked, and what Minho saw nearly stopped his heart. Out of the bottom of Newt's right pants leg was his foot, twisted at a gruesome angel that was in no way normal._

"_Oh shuck…" Minho breathed, feeling light headed. He walked over and grabbed the hem of the pants leg and gently rolled it up passed his knee. He took just one look at the horrid sight and promptly threw up._

_After wiping the vomit from his mouth and taking several deep breaths Minho turned to get a closer examination of the damage. Harsh green and purple bruises spread up the entire leg from his shin to his knee cap. Multiple harsh cuts were littered everywhere and the leg was swollen up to twice its normal size. But all of this was nothing compared to his knee and ankle. The ankle was clearly broken, twisting his foot in at a disturbingly grotesque angel. His knee, however, had taken the worst of it all. It was swollen, busted open to the point where bone and muscle was clearly visible. It seemed like the leg should have fallen off._

"_Mother Fucker." Was all Minho could say. Leaning back onto his heels he tried to calm himself down. He slung off his pack and took a small swig of water and checked his watch. He had maybe a half hour left before the door closed. He needed to move, and soon. Just as he was debating how to travel back to the doors with Newt, he heard a small whimper behind him. "Newt?!" he breathed, rushing to his side._

_Minho watched as Newt began to open his eyes, he saw first the look of confusion, and then of pain and fear. _

"_Newt…?" Minho muttered again. Finally, his fellow runner's eyes settled on Minho, and a look of recognition mixed with confusion filled them as Newt tried to understand the situation. Finally he seemed to realize where he was._

"_Hey..." Newt barely managed to gasp out, his face serious and tight with pain. "How bad?"_

"…_You're alive." Minho supplied. Newt nodded and then gasped, reaching up a hand to clutch his head. He shut his eyes, tears leaking out from the corner. Minho felt his heart sink. "Newt," he began, "We have to go."_

_Newts eyes opened once again and Minho was surprised to see them shining with panic._

"_Newt its alright, you can do it." He said, trying to soothe the runner, but it was of no use. _

"_I- I Can't" Newt spluttered, his chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly as he looked around as if searching for a way out. "NO, you can't make me please!"_

"_I'll help you! It'll be alright, come on we have to go." Minho stood up; casting his pack to the side he reached down and grabbed Newt's arms, attempting to help him to his feet or something along those lines. He didn't want to hurt the poor kid, but they couldn't wait any longer. The Griever or whatever might have attacked Newt could still be around after all. "Newt please." But with each movement newt cried out and thrashed, pulling himself away. He screamed and sobbed, finally toppling out of Minho's arms and landing on the cold stone. The jolt as he landed ran up his leg, and a gut wrenching scream of pain ripped from his throat. _

"_JUST LEAVE ME!" Newt screamed, clutching at his leg as tears poured down his face. "Just let me die," he sobbed, barely able to choke out the words over his panic and labored breathing, "let me die, please, oh please, just let me die. I JUST WANT TO DIE!"_

_Minho felt his heart clench with horrid realization. It felt like someone had just sucker-punched him in the stomach. He looked around, spotting the torn vines off the wall, the injuries, just everything. He thought of Newt's unusual behavior, and he knew what had really happened. He certainly hadn't been attacked by anything, and that made his heart hurt even more. But there was no time to dwell on it. He looked down at his watch; it blinked back a warning of maybe 15 minutes before the door closed. 15 minutes for them both to get out of there. He turned to face Newt, saw the tears streaming down his face, the panic and fear in his eyes, and stood up. _

_ "There's no way in hell you shank," he said, wiping a trail of blood off the corner of his mouth, "that I'm leaving you to die." He bent down in front of his friend and began to pull Newt onto his back, "And if you think for one bloody second that you could get me to leave you, then you're wrong." He stood up again, could hear Newts sharp intake of breath as he jostled his leg, "If you think of trying to die in here, then I'm going to die with you."_

_ He felt Newt's shaking body and warm tears against his neck as his friend pressed his head down in resignation. He almost though he heard a whispered "thank you" among the sobs. _

_ For a moment Minho steeled himself. And then he took off running._

_ Left, Right, Left again._

_ Each step sent fire shooting up his legs. _

_ Left, Left, Right, Straight ahead through the fork._

_ Minho could hear Newts sobs and whimpers over the pounding rush of blood in his head. He could feel the vice-like grip the runner held on him, his fists clenched tightly and twisting into his shirt. Minho knew he was trying not to scream._

_ Right, Left, Dead End, Backtrack, Right._

_ Minho began to recognize this part of the Maze. He knew they were nearing the Glade. Only minutes left, if he could just keep going. Just keep going._

_ Two more rights. _

_ He could feel the toll from the running. His stomach and legs hurt and were beginning to seize up. An uncomfortable hot buzzing sensation began in his head and around his eyes as the corners of his vision began to darken. Newt was beginning to feel heavier and heavier._

_ Left, Left, Left, Right._

_ He heard a ragged cough, and felt a warm, slick sensation on his neck. Blood. Newt became quiet and he felt the grip on his shirt loosen. _

_ Forward. Forward._

_ They were so close, so close. _

_ Forward. Forward. Forward. _

_ "Newt are you there?!" He all but screamed. He couldn't lose him now, not when they were so close. "Newt?!" He demanded with what little breath he had left. A weak, whimper came in reply. _

_ Two more rights and then they were on the home stretch._

_ Right._

_ And then he heard it, felt it. It was like a deafening thunderclap echoing through the maze, as the ground began to shake beneath his feet. He recognized that noise, had heard it every day of the life that he could remember. He had always thought that the Maze's door meant safety through the night. Now, from the inside, the doors only meant death._

_ Forward. _

Shit, Shit, Shit!_ He screamed in his mind. His head pounded and his lungs burned and yet he ran faster, picking up speed, nearly a dead sprint. The world was becoming fuzzier, more confusing. He had maybe sixty seconds left to get out of the maze. _

_ Forward. Forward._

_ His arms and legs shook underneath the weight of his friend. His throat burned. He coughed harshly, nearly falling, and felt blood trickle down his chin. He heard sobbing, although at this point he didn't know if it was from Newt or from himself. Probably both. Forty seconds._

_ Forward, Right._

_ The grinding and clinking of the wall came at him from all sides, pressing in on him. Everything hurt. He was burning. He spied the end of the Maze, the doors sliding closer and closer. He would never make it. Thirty Seconds._

_ Forward._

_ That's when he heard the screams. _

_ "Come on!"_

_ "Don't Stop!"_

_ "You can make it!"_

_ The Gladers. All of their voices blending together into a surge of noise even louder than that of the walls washed over him._

_ "Don't quit on me now you shank!" That was Alby's voice, echoing loudest of all. _

_ 20 Seconds_

_ Forward._

_ Putting his head down, Minho tightened his grip on Newt's practically limp body. His heart hammered, his body strained and screamed in protest of every movement, and his lungs seemed to be chocking him and burning him from the inside. He didn't care. Without looking up he put on a burst of speed and ran into a dead sprint, pure adrenaline rushing in his body, making him want to scream._

_ 10 Seconds_

_ Forward._

_ Everything was closing in around him. His vision became blurry._

_ 7 Seconds._

_ Forward._

_ He could hear their screams getting louder, or maybe that sound was coming from him. Maybe that was the tearing sensation that he felt at his throat._

_ 5 seconds. _

_ Forward._

_ The world around him silenced. There was nothing but Newt, the doors, and himself._

_ 3 Seconds._

_ Forward. _

_ With his final ounce of strength Minho sprinted through the just human-sized space between the doors and out into the Glade. He tumbled to the ground, feeling Newt's barely conscious body roll off beside him. He looked around, but it was like everything was moving in slow motion. There were Gladers bending over him, shaking him. Their mouths moved but he heard none of it. The only sound was the calming, and yet terrifying pounding of blood roaring in his hears. Everything ached. He felt his stomach clench up and barely managed to roll to his side before throwing up. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get his bearings as he felt hands pull him away from his pile of vomit and into a sitting position. _

_ "Minho? Minho?" The voice seemed muffled but he recognized it. _

_ "Alby?" He managed to choke out. He felt a cool sensation as something wet was laid over his forehead. Opening his eyes with some difficulty he found his friend standing before him, water in hand and concern written all over his face. _

_ "Oh thank God, you shank!" Alby muttered, shoving the water bottle into Minho's hand and helping him take a drink. The cool water slid down his throat and woke him up a little. He began to feel more grounded as his surrounding came more in focus. He saw the swarm of Gladers, all with mingling looks of concern, fear, and curiosity as they milled around trying to find some way to help. He saw Clint and Jeff, Winston, even Gally, but as he scanned the area he found one Glader missing._

_ "Alby," Minho sat up, panicked, "where is he? Where's –"_

_ But his question was cut off by a blood curdling scream. _

_ "Shuck!"_

_ With Alby's help Minho stood up and tried to stumble over to the throng of Gladers that he knew were surrounding Newt. Another scream cut the air._

_ "Out of the way!" Alby's voice commanded and the Gladers separated, leaving a path for the pair. "All of you shanks who aren't Med-Jacks go do something useful and prepare a shucking room in the homestead. Everyone else, get back to dinner or your jobs or whatever!" The majority of the Gladers left, although hesitantly. Minho saw four of them sprint off to the Homestead while Clint, Jeff, and about three other Gladers remained with them. _

_ Minho hobbled to where Newt was laying, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his knee. He was on top of a stretcher, Minho realized. Newt had screamed when they had moved him from the ground to the stretcher. _

_ "Do you need any help taking him?" Minho rasped as Clint and Jeff knelt on each side of the stretcher, preparing to lift him up and carry him to the Homestead. The Med-Jacks shook their head in reply, but Minho bent on the ground next to Newt anyways._

_ "Hey," he muttered, grabbing his forearm, "you're alright now." Newt's eyes flickered to him, fear and pain burning in them. Minho doubted that Newt was really seeing him. "They're going to lift you out of here," he warned, "it's gonna' hurt, but we're just carrying you to the Homestead. _

_ Newt's eyes widened, but he gritted his teeth and nodded. Minho stood up and stepped back as Clint and Jeff hauled up the stretcher._

_ Newt's shriek pierced through his heart and made him want to throw up again. Newt tried to stifle his sobs and whimpers, but he couldn't help it. The Med-Jacks walked off towards the Homestead, Alby and Minho trailing behind._

_ When they arrived at the doors of the Homestead, Alby stopped for a moment, and turned to face Minho. Fear, pain, and so many other emotions flickered in his eyes. _

_ "What happened in there?" He asked quietly. Minho thought for a moment, and suddenly Newts request for him to leave, his crying plea, cut through Minho's mind. _

_ Minho shook his head. "Right now Alby," he muttered, "I honestly don't know. I just know that there's gonna be a lot to fix."_

_ Alby looked at him solemnly, nodded, and then tightly embraced his friend. _

_ "I'm glad you're not dead shanks" Alby muttered._

_ "Yeah, me too." Minho managed in reply, feeling his chest tighten as he truly realized the horror he had just been through._

_ Alby stepped back, his eyes tired, and together the pair walked into the Homestead. _

_**Sooooo I hope you guys like it. I had a lot of fun writing it and I'm just so happy to be up and running again. I should update soon, but I've also started a second story so the updates will probably go back and forth. Review if you want and thanks for reading. Love you all. **_


	6. ANOTHER CHAPTER! WOOP WOOP!

Darkness. Quiet, soothing, darkness. He was warm, comfortable, as a cool sensation gently whipped his hair off of his forehead. There was something soft beneath him, cradling him (some voice in the back of his mind offered the word "bed" but Newt preferred to push it away). These were the first sensations that Newt picked up on. It was…peaceful. A steady, drum-like sensation reverberated in his head. With his eyes closed and his head resting on something soft the rhythmic beat could have lulled him to sleep. Well, it could have, if it wasn't for the sudden rush of mind shattering pain that followed only moments later.

His eyes snapped open, but he couldn't see. He didn't know where he was. Suddenly the darkness wasn't wrapping him in safety, it was strangling him, crushing him. He struggled to move but that only made everything worse as it caused more jolts of fire to rush up and down his body. The pain was consuming him. It was like there was a voice screaming in his head, pushing at all sides to get out, punching and kicking at the wall. He was sure his head would split open. Cloth was wrapped along his legs and arms, tying him down, locking him in, and trapping him. He opened his mouth to call out, for Minho, Alby, hell even for Gally, he didn't care, but no noise came out. That's when the raw panic set in. He couldn't breathe. Tears of pure fear and frustration were welling up in his eyes and he felt himself start to shake. Every part of his body was burning and he opened and closed him mouth, trying to yell, speak, or even cough. His heart was racing. He was being closed in from all sides. Darkness choked him. Rope held him down. His arms spasmed as he tried to reach out for something, someone…

"Newt!" A pair of strong hands grabbed him and pushed him into an upright sitting position. "Newt!" the voice repeated, "Newt breathe!"

Newt managed a gasp. He coughed harshly, choking slightly, and took another shuddering breath. In, out, in, out, in, out…He repeated it over and over again. The bed creaked softly as the person sat beside him.

"You're alright Newt." The voice said, and Newt felt the hands give him a soft squeeze on the shoulders. Minho. The voice was from Minho. He couldn't see him (for it was night, Newt realized) but he would recognize that voice anywhere. But-how the hell could it be Minho? That could only mean… he was shucking alive.

He felt like he was falling all over again.

_You shucking idiot! You bloody useless slinthead! _Oh this was rich. Only he could manage to do something this stupid. How hard was it to kill yourself, huh? It wasn't even like the plan was difficult. Climb. Jump. Climb. Jump. Now what was he going to do? How could he let his friends know what happened? _Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Why? Why!? _His head pounded. He wanted to scream at the sky, at the bloody Creators. They were having a right laugh, he was sure of it.

"Hey, Newt. Newt!" Minho grabbed his hands and pulled them away from his head. He didn't even notice he'd been clutching at his hair. Newt suddenly became aware the tears streaming down his face and quickly went to wipe them off.

"Thanks Minho." He mumbled quietly. His head was buzzing and there was still a slight quiver in his limbs.

"Newt…" Minho began, and the question hung in the air between them. What the hell just happened?

Newt sighed, and cut Minho off before he could begin talking again.

"Right now Minho I'm tired, everything hurts, and I'm pretty sure its bloody midnight. Just let me sleep. I'll talking to you in the morning."

It was a klunk excuse, and he could feel Minho's reluctance, but the runner was clearly exhausted. He could hear it in his voice, feel it in his slumped posture. He knew he would give in.

"Alright Newt," Minho replied with a softness that honestly surprised Newt a little bit. "We'll talk tomorrow. Call me if you need something."

"Will do." Newt muttered, staring at his hands, even though he couldn't see them in the darkness. "Thanks."

The bed creaked quietly, almost as though it was afraid of interrupting the boys, as Minho stood up. Light, soft footsteps made their way across the room towards the door. The soft whoosh and click announced his exit.

Newt laid back onto his bed, his pounding head cradled softly by the worn pillow. He began to feel every ache and stab of pain as the adrenaline drained out of his body. With a small groan he shifted himself into a more comfortable position. He felt his eyes droop. _Yes, _he decided, _it can all wait 'till morning. _With that, he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

**Ok, ok, ok. I know this chapter was suuuuuper short, but I really wanted to get it out to you guys because I know you have been waiting a while. I was going to make this whole bit one chapter, but I've split it up. I think there's still enough feels right now that you all can manage with this. Please review and I'm sorry for any spelling errors. Also, it's pretty funny because after the Scorch Trials came out the amount of views on this spiked insanely. So here's what you all get for now. I'll try to add on soon. Thanks you shanks, and all of you bloody greenies who are new to this story as well. **


	7. Surprise Bitch: ANOTHER FUCKING CHAPTER!

Morning came much faster than Newt would have liked. Slowly his eyes cracked open, being greeted by a bright light. Mumbling, he started to roll over, only stopping when a sharp pain spiked throughout his body. His shoulders and arms ached, and it felt like someone had just used his head as a set of drums. His legs ached, especially his knee. Shuck that hurt.

For the third time over the course of the past few days Newt had forgotten where he was and why he hurt.

Then he remember.

_That's right._ He thought to himself. _You're in the Homestead, you're bloody knee is shucked up, and you're shucking alive. You useless shank._

The events of the fall, being found by Minho, waking up in the Homestead, waking up again in a different room, and finally of Minho coming in to speak to him, all washed over Newt in an instant. His head began to throb and he reached up to massage the ache, unsurprised to find a large bump from where his head had smacked onto the cold stone floor of the maze…

The thought made him feel sick. He had come so close to death. Unsurprisingly, his memory from the event was relatively fuzzy, but he could remember the pain. Oh yes, that was clearer than the ever-permanent blue sky of the Glade. He could remember lying there on his side, curled in a ball as he watched as a crimson liquid, unidentifiable at the time, had seeped out around him. The larger the pool grew, the darker his vision became, and it had taken him mere moment to fall into darkness.

There were tears streaming down his face again.

Furiously, he reached up his fist and wiped them away. Sitting up gingerly, he looked around the room, which was now identifiable in the light. It was the "private" room in the homestead, Newt realized, the one where they put griever victims generally. There was only one bed, which Newt was occupying, a small window on the wall that the bed was up against, an old wicker chair in the corner, and a small bedside table. Upon said table was a bottle of water. Spying it, Newt suddenly realized how parched he was and he quickly reached out and grabbed the bottle, chugging a large portion of it in mere seconds. However, this wasn't the smartest of ideas, as the sudden change didn't quite agree with Newt, and the water seemed to really want to make a reappearance. Clutching his stomach with his good arm Newt groaned and leaned back into his soft pillow, closing his eyes and waiting for the feeling to pass.

That's when a knock came at his door. A knock that Newt was not prepared to answer.

There was a soft swish and light footsteps across the floor.

It was strange, really, how Newt had learned to identify people by their footsteps over the years. The other Gladers had always assumed that Newt was just a good guesser, or that he could tell by how heavy the footsteps sounded. The guesses were reasonable, of course, but wrong. It was from the way that Newt would stay awake every night, his brain clamoring too noisily for him to sleep. Every night he would hear different Gladers wake up from nightmares, or maybe simply to get a snack or take a klunk, and he would listen to them. Chuck's footsteps were always heavy and stumbling, no matter if he was fully awake or half asleep. Gally's were loud; he didn't care who he woke up. Minho's were quick and quiet, while Winston's were nearly unnoticeable. And these footsteps were those of a strong and silent leader, and a friend.

Newt's heart hammered as his footsteps came closer, afraid of the conversation that he was about to have.

"Don't pretend to be asleep. I know you're awake. I heard you coughing and sputtering on that water all the way down the hall."

His heart sunk.

"Alby" Newt groaned, opening his eyes too look up at the leader of the Gladers.

"That's right shuck-face" Alby responded, his brows furrowed with worry as he looked down at his friend, "Whew. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"Thanks for the bloody compliment." Newt replied sarcastically as he began to sit up.

"Don't." Alby stated simply, reaching out and gently pushing Newt back onto the bed. Walking over to the corner of the room he picked up the chair and placed it at Newt's bedside and plopped down.

"I'm fine Alby, really." Newt protested, but the elder simply shook his head, and Newt flopped back into his bed with a sigh. He grumbled quietly to himself, although he was secretly fine with lying down. His stomach still ached and the familiar drumming sensation had returned to his head.

"How are you feeling?" Alby asked.

_Honestly. Everything hurts and I just want to sleep. I'm hungry, I'm thirsty. I'm just a bleeding mess and I just want to get out of here._ Newt thought to himself.

"Fine, I guess." Newt said aloud.

"Hm." Alby said, "Well, you seem to be alive, to say the least."

The simple phrase seemed to tear through Newt's heart.

"Yeah, alive is good." _Oh, if only you knew Alby. _

"Minho told me about last night Newt. You sure you're alright?" Well, that was Alby. No beating around the bush, just going right to it.

"Um, yeah," He muttered, clearing his throat awkwardly. His hands fumbled at his bedsheets and he cast his eyes away from Alby's clear dark ones as he continued. "Just, you know, a bit of a shock. Waking up in the dark and all. Not too sure of what was going on." The details about the fear and the suffocating night didn't really need to be shared in Newt's opinion.

Alby opened his mouth to respond, when a loud rumble like thunder cut off any of what he was going to say. The maze. The maze was opening. _That bloody noise_. Newt thought. _That bleeding noise. Every shucking time. _Images flew through his brain. He could vaguely recall Minho's frantic screams to stay awake, matched only by the calls of fellow Gladers.

"_Come on!"_

"_Don't stop!"_

"_You can make it!"_

_Oh God, oh God. The pain was too much. He felt it through his whole body. Each bump and step made his head rattle, his knees ache. Oh God oh God. No, no, he couldn't survive this. He should have been left behind, he should have- _

"Hey!"

For the second time in two days, a strong pair of arms grasped his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake.

"Newt!" Alby's voice broke through his mind, and he realized suddenly that the noise was gone and that he was sitting up in his bed, staring blankly out the small window and into the glade.

"_Don't quit on me now you shank!" Alby's voice had reached his ears as Minho had sprinted out of the maze. _

Newt blinked furiously, his shoulders shaking and his heart pounding. He wasn't in the maze. He was in the Homestead. He wasn't…in…the maze.

"Th-thanks." Newt croaked, turning back to face Alby, who was still grasping his shoulders, a look of concern etched into his features.

Alby simply continued to stare at him. Hesitantly, he released his tight grip on Newt's arms and leaned back into his chair.

"Is Minho out there today?" Newt asked, trying to act as though he hadn't just had a mini panic attack. This was particularly difficult considering the way that his body was still trembling.

Mercifully, it seemed that Alby had decided that he would move along to, and he didn't press on about what had just occurred, although Newt knew that it would be a future conversation. It seemed there would be a lot of those.

"Yes," Alby replied slowly, as though not to startle Newt. "Except only he and Ben went out today. He told the other runners that they didn't have to go. Didn't want anyone to get attacked by another Griever, like you."

Newt nodded, feeling a bit of relief, and yet simultaneously dread, as he realized that the Gladers didn't know what actually happened. Hopefully they never would.

"You think I'll be back to running in a few weeks?" Newt asked. He didn't really care, of course, but he knew he had to spur the conversation on, keep up his front.

Alby's face paled suddenly and Newt's heart jumped.

"What is it?" He asked, growing more nervous because of Alby's lack of response. "What Alby? Is it going to take longer than that? A month?"

"Newt," Alby began, taking a deep breath.

"Two months? Three?" Newt cut him off, realizing suddenly that he didn't want to hear the answer.

"Newt, your injuries-"Alby tried again, but Newt continued to rattle on.

"6 months?" The Brit asked, his voice becoming more hysterical by the second, "Don't tell me a year Alby. Come on, you've got to be shucking with me, I mean-"

"Newt." The dead seriousness of Alby's voice stopped Newt's ramblings. Taking a deep breath, Alby looked Newt in the eyes, "Newt. The Medjacks said that all of your injuries, the cuts, bruises, concussions, damaged bones, they'll all heal. The only problem is your leg"

Newt's heart dropped and for a moment he could feel the dread that hung between them.

"You, well, it got shucked up pretty bad. Clint and Jeff said you popped it out of its socket a shattered it. They had to somehow put it back into place and manage to push all of the pieces back together. You're ankle was shattered too…" Alby trailed off, clearly not wanting to continue.

_No, please no. Creators, God, please, whatever you are, whatever there is please no. No no no. Nononononono._

"It'll take over a year for it to heal, but not enough for you to be a runner. You're probably going to have a limp for the rest of your life."

**PLOT FRICKING TWIST! I'M ACTUALLY ALIVE.** **Basically the only reason that I haven't updated is school. It's my junior year so I have a lot of shenanigans going on right now that I'm doing, which isn't too bad, it's just that I'm hecka busy. Plus I'm performing in a musical this week and I've got some soccer try-outs right now (I made varsity again! Yay!) But that's whatever. I just decided that I really needed to get a chapter up so that you would know that I am here, and that I am sorry that this literally took months. I'm already working on the next chapter so hopefully I'll get that done within the next week or two. Again, this is a shorter chapter, but I just have to say thank you so much for all of the people who follow my story. You shanks are the best and I love you. Heck, thanks for just reading it in the first place! Shanks and greenies alike, you're all wonderful! Please review if you can, and sorry if there are typos, I kind of wrote this chapter in a 3 hour sitting! So, yay! **


	8. Chapter 8: Feels! (At least I think so)

It was like hitting the stone floor all over again.

Newt was falling again. He was falling and falling and falling and falling and falling and falling. He was weightless for a moment, only before the pain. He wanted to scream, to scream as loud as he had on that wall. _He was trapped, oh God he was trapped_. That's why he became a runner, to get out of this hell hole. When that didn't work he tried jumping off of a bloody wall and kill himself. Look where it had gotten him. This cruel twist of irony had trapped him, not only to a bed but to the inside of four walls. He wanted to scream and scream and scream and scream. Something, anything, that would let him breathe, he didn't care what. Internally he was nothing but a shrieking, sobbing mess of pain.

Externally, however, he was sitting silently on his bed, his hands twisting the sheets beneath him as he stared ahead with glassy eyes.

There was no way his leg could be….he couldn't be.

He had to know.

Scrambling, he threw the covers off, ignoring Alby's shouts of protest, and looked down at his legs. He was wearing a pair of gym shorts that just reached to above his knees. The legs below were covered in white bandages, his left leg wrapped relatively thin…his right leg…

Newt leaned over the bed and promptly threw up.

"Newt, shuck!" Alby gasped, standing up so quickly to avoid the vomit that he knocked his chair over. Newt ignored him.

The Gladers must have gotten some heavy pain killers from the Creators, or maybe it was the concussion, but he had no idea how he could have missed it. Sitting back up and wiping his mouth uncaringly. Newt returned to staring at his leg. The rest of the world faded away as he looked at it. The bandages were relatively normal until it got to his knee and then down to his ankle. There they were layered thickly, yet dried blood spots were still prominent, and even then fresher blood spots had bled through. What made him really feel nauseous was the angle of his leg. It was bent at a strangle angle, bent too far inward. Not horrible noticeable, but clearly off and wrong. Alby was right, there was no way he would ever walk normal on it again, much less run. Bloody shuck, how the hell had he not noticed this…he couldn't remember anything from that night…what the shuck had happened?

"Newt…" Alby whispered it softly, but Newt didn't move. He didn't look up, just looked at his leg. There was something soft under his hands. The sheets. He just kept twisting the sheets, over and over and over and over and over and over and over. His mouth opened momentarily, then shut. He couldn't speak, again. Couldn't make a single quip, one bloody remark. He couldn't do anything. Why did his chest hurt? Something was wrong...some very simple thing.

"Newt…Newt, breathe!"

That was it. That was the one thing that he wasn't doing. Why wasn't he breathing? He wished he was. Maybe it would make his chest stop hurting, or his head for that matter.

"_Newt! _Dammit!" Alby was shaking him again. Why did Alby sound so desperate? God he didn't like that sound. He'd heard that sound before….God, where…why couldn't he bloody remember?

"_Newt! Newt!" Alby was hovering above him, shaking him. Everything was a swell of pain. Through his blurred vision he could _spy_ the med jacks rushing around. Oh God, what the bloody shuck was happening…_

"Breathe!"

Yes, he knew he was supposed to bloody breathe, but he couldn't quite remember how. He could feel himself shaking. His chest was moving up and down. Wasn't that how breathing worked? But it all felt to fast….his heart shouldn't be moving this fast.

"Minho, get in here!"

"_Minho, hold him down for me!" That was Jeff, or maybe it was Clint…the shuck if he knew. Another shock of fire ripped down his body. Someone let out a yell. _

"_Grab him before he falls off the shucking bed!" Is that what was under him? A bed…_

"What the – oh shuck." Minho was there. That was Minho's voice. He heard a pattering of feet, someone knelt down on the floor in front of him. "Newt? Newt?! What's going on?!"

All he wanted to do was offer a snarky, "What does it look like?" But he couldn't even move his mouth. God that was wrong. Everyone felt so wrong. His grip on the sheets only tightened, as if he was trying to shatter the fabric in his hands. There was a twitching sensation in his arms. His arms hurt now too.

_His arms, his head, his legs. God, why did everything hurt? It was the jostling around, wasn't it? The medjacks were lifting him, pulling him around, grabbing his arms when he just wanted to push them away. Couldn't they just leave him alone?_

Suddenly Minho reached under Newt's chin and lifted his head to meet his gaze. "Newt, look me in the eyes." The blonde's eyes stared off into the distance for a moment before coming in to focus on Minho's face. He still struggled to draw breath, hyperventilating as tears sprung to his eyes. Gently, Minho took hold of his wrists. "Newt…you need to breathe." The blonde began to struggle in his grasp, pulling backwards, but Minho only tightened his grip. "Newt…"

_Oh God, suddenly he knew what was coming. _

"_Hold him down!"_

"_We have to reset it!"_

_No. no. no no no no. __"Minho!" He managed to gasp out._

_He tried to pull away, but Minho only tightened his grip. Oh God, no. No. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. Before he could even take a breath…_

"Newt! For the love of God breathe!"

_There was a snap!_

Newt gasped suddenly, his breathing beginning to even out in sharp, shuddering, breaths.

_And then there was only pain, followed by soothing darkness._

Sobs. Horrible, heart wrenching sobs shook Newt's body as he sat there, his hands tugging at the sheets. Oh God, he remembered everything. Every horrible detail of the pain from when he was put in the bloody homestead. The thoughts just made him cry harder. He was a bloody mess. His shoulders shook and his heart was racing and his head hurt and he didn't know what to do. He wanted it to stop, all of it. Tears blurred his vision as he coughed and sputtered and tried to get his breathing back in order. Gasp, sob, gasp, sob, cough, gasp, sob, gasp, sob, cough, repeat.

Minho and Alby stared in shock at their friend as he struggled to pull himself together. Frankly, it shattered their heart to see him this way. They stared at each other for only a moment before standing up and sitting beside their friend.

New was aware of someone wrapping their arm around him and pulling him close. Gently, someone else pulled his fingers apart from where there were tightly clenched around the sheets.

His holder began to sway back and forth and run his hands soothingly through his hair. "Calm down Newt." That was Minho. So then Alby was on his other side.

"Newt, you're ok." God, if he wasn't crying so hard maybe he would have laughed. A mirthless hateful laugh. Hate at himself for getting himself, and everyone else, into this giant bleeding mess.

"Don't worry Newt. You're safe from whatever happened to you." This time, Alby spoke, "You're safe from the Grievers."

"It wasn't the bleeding Grievers!"

The rocking stopped.

He didn't know what made him say it. Maybe it was because he was tired. Maybe it was because he was frustrated. God, he didn't know. He didn't even care then.

"It wasn't the bleeding Grievers…" He repeated, his sobs starting to die down. "It was me. I threw myself off of the bloody wall!" as he said it aloud the realization hit. It all hit him again. But he couldn't keep it in, he had to let them know. "I hated being here! I hated myself! I was bloody trapped! I thought, I thought –"

"You thought that killing yourself was the shucking solution?" It was an emotionless whisper, matter-of-fact, borderline conversational for Minho.

Newt wished he would have screamed at him, punched him, hit him. Pushes away from Minho's arms, Newt sat up, wiped his eyes, and nodded.

You could cut through the tension with a knife.

Minho just looked at him blankly while Alby stared at him with the tired eyes of an elderly man who'd seen hell before and had come back from it.

"Minho…" Newt muttered, unsure of what to do.

Suddenly Minho stood up and walked towards the door.

"Minho?!" Newt yelped, panicked. He knew what he had done would upset them, but he needed them. God, he couldn't lose Minho or Alby…not now.

He didn't turn around, but his voice was cold when he answered. "I'm going out to clear my head. If I don't I'm going to lose it. I'll be back." And with that, he quickly flung open the door, stepped out, and shut it behind him. The sharp, resounding _bam!_ as the door closed only emphasized the emptiness without him.

Newt felt his heart begin to pound again. For a moment he contemplated getting out of bed to chase after him, to explain, to do…something. Alby seemed to sense it however, and he scooted closer to Newt, wrapping his arms around Newt and drawing him close.

There were tears running down his face again.

"Oh God, Alby what am I going to do?"

There was only a moment of silence before Alby replied, "Listen, you shank. It'll be alright. Just let him blow off some steam. He'll be back."

Newt nodded, and suddenly he began to feel exhausted again. Having a panic attack can apparently taking a major toll on a person. He could feel his eyes getting heavier and heavier, and the flow of tears and his shivering began to subside.

Alby gently laid him onto the bed, standing up in the process. Carefully he pulled the covers up over his friend's shoulders. After Minho's dramatic exit it had taken Newt about 15 minutes to fully stop shaking and crying. Alby's heart ached for the blonde. Newt and Alby had been in the Maze for the longest time out of all of the Gladers. Minho had been there for a while too, but not nearly as long as the other too. Alby could understand where his pain and frustration was coming from. Nightmares of being stuck in the maze forever plagued him constantly and kept him up at night. To think that this hatred had pushed Newt to such an edge without anyone noticing however, was what really bothered Alby.

With a sigh, Alby walked towards the door, stepping over the vomit in the process. He's have one of the greenies clean it up. As he gently opened the door to exit, however, a soft, barely-awake voice coming from the bed stopped him.

"Alby...Do you hate me?"

It felt like someone had poured ice water on him. He didn't even have to think of his response.

"Never kid." He said fiercely, "Not in a million years."

"Good," Newt whispered, rolling over on the small bed, "At least between you and me, there's one person who doesn't hate me."

"Feel better kid." Alby whispered solemnly. Stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him, Alby took a deep breath.

"Now, where the fuck are you Minho?!" He muttered angrily to himself, storming off down the hallway.

**Boom! Yes, I updated in a timely manner! Thanks for all the reads on my last chapter. I definitely think I made up for it in this chapter! You tell me what you think. And don't worry, Minho won't be a jerk for a very long time. Ok, it's 12:33 a.m., and I'm hella tired from the weekend, so I'm going to end it here. Hope you liked it you shanks! Please review!**


End file.
